Establishing a Clan in the Eastern Wilderness: A Daily Divination, Cultivating Longevity in a Grotto

Li Changsheng concealed himself and followed behind the wedding procession.

Four burly men carried the white coffin along a rugged mountain path, heading towards the mountainside.

The village chief walked at the front, carrying a white lantern in his hand, the candlelight flickering.

Along both sides of the mountain path, every few feet there stood a bamboo pole with a white lantern hanging from it, just like the ones in the village. The eerie symbols on the lanterns glowed faintly in the candlelight, like open eyes.

After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, an ancient cemetery appeared ahead.

The cemetery is small, covering about half an acre, and is surrounded by a blue stone fence, which is covered with symbols that are the same as those on the white lanterns.

In the very center of the cemetery stands a newly built altar.

A clay doll was enshrined on the altar.

The clay doll was about a foot tall, completely black, and had a ferocious face.

Its eyes were two rubies the size of mung beans, gleaming with a cold, eerie light in the darkness. The corners of its mouth were upturned, revealing two rows of sharp teeth; its smile was sinister and cruel. The clay doll was wrapped in dense red ropes, from which copper bells were tied, jingling in the wind.

The village chief led his men to the altar.

Four burly men placed the white coffin in front of the altar and knelt down in unison.

The village chief took out a stack of paper money from his sleeve, lit it, and burned it in front of the coffin.

"By the gods above, Zhao Dezhu, the village chief of Shuangjie Village, leads the villagers in presenting a bride. May the gods accept her and bless our village with peace for a year."

He kowtowed three times, stood up, took a short knife from his waist, and made a cut in his palm. Blood dripped into the nail holes of the coffin and seeped into the gaps in the coffin lid.

The four burly men also cut their palms one by one, dripping their blood into the coffin.

The ceremony is over.

The village chief took three steps back, bowed deeply, and turned to leave.

Four burly men followed closely behind, without turning their heads.

On the mountain path, the candlelight of the white lanterns gradually faded into the distance, eventually disappearing into the darkness.

Li Changsheng remained hidden in the shadows of the trees beside the altar, without moving.

His divine sense silently probed out and locked onto the clay doll.

Moments later, from the depths of the cemetery, an evil force rose up.

The power was cold, decaying, and reeked of blood; like a black column of smoke, it shot up from the ground and converged on the white coffin with lightning speed.

Black smoke swirled, condensed, and compressed above the coffin.

Then, the things inside the coffin moved.

She is not a young girl.

The coffin lid wasn't opened, but something seeped out of it—little by little, strand by strand, slowly flowing out. The black liquid fell to the ground, but instead of scattering, it grew upwards, like a flower blooming upside down, rising from the ground inch by inch, condensing into a human shape.

First, there were bare feet, with red ropes tied around slender ankles, from which hung small copper bells. The copper bells rang, tinkling, tinkling, their crisp sound sending chills down one's spine in the silent cemetery.

Then came her long, slender legs, draped in a red dress. Her waist was so thin it seemed unreal, as if it would break at the slightest touch. The red dress flowed upwards, outlining the girl's figure, finally reaching her shoulders, neck, and chin.

Red veil.

A red veil floated down from the sky and landed steadily on her head, obscuring her face.

She stood there in front of the coffin, her bare feet on the cold stone slabs, motionless.

"Ding-dong—"

The copper bell rang again.

She slowly turned her head, reached out her hand, and gently stroked the coffin lid.

Her hands were slender and white as jade, with nail polish painted red like blood.

She smiled.

Beneath the red veil, the smile was sweet and innocent, like a bride-to-be dreaming of married life. But if anyone could see the face beneath the veil, they would be terrified—it wasn't a human face. It was a clay sculpture, its features distorted, its smile eerie, its mouth split to its ears, revealing two rows of sharp teeth.

Evil spirits.

Quasi-second order.

It's just one step away from second order.

Mud doll.

The vessel for ancient curse techniques.

Legend has it that in ancient times, a great shaman sculpted clay figures, inscribed them with curse runes, and sacrificed them with blood. This would transform the clay dolls into malevolent beings, enabling them to carry out curses for the caster. Those cursed would suffer from anything from minor illnesses to the destruction of their families. This particular clay doll, having slumbered in the graveyard for countless years, was awakened by the blood sacrifice. Feeding on the blood of virgins, it gradually took on form and developed sentience.

With a gentle lift of its hand, the nails on the coffin slowly spun out under an invisible force, hovering in mid-air.

The coffin lid floated up and landed silently to one side.

Inside the coffin, the girl was curled up, her eyes closed, her face as pale as paper.

The clay doll bent down, its red veil almost touching the girl's face.

"The scent of a virgin..."

It whispered contentedly, its voice clear as a silver bell, yet carrying a chilling undertone.

It stretched out its slender white hand, a crack appearing at the tip of its index finger, from which a drop of black liquid seeped out. The liquid hung in mid-air, slowly drifting towards the girl's brow.

Li Changsheng's pupils suddenly contracted.

That drop of black liquid must not be allowed to touch the girl's brow—once it does, the girl's soul will be marked by the mud doll, becoming its eternal food, from which she can never escape.

He no longer hides.

The Seven Treasures Glazed Umbrella opened above his head, enveloping him in a seven-colored glazed light shield. Chi Yu leaped out of the spirit beast pouch, flapped his wings, and hovered in mid-air; Mo Yu, holding a pipa, stood beside him, her ten fingers resting on the strings.

"Let's do it!"

With her delicate hands, Mo Yu plucked the strings of the pipa, and the sound waves transformed into sharp arrows, raining down on the clay doll. Chi Yu opened her mouth, and a fireball the size of a human head roared out, carrying intense heat, and crashed towards the clay doll.

The mud doll did not turn around.

It didn't even move.

The drop of black liquid suspended in mid-air suddenly exploded, transforming into a pitch-black barrier that blocked all the sonic arrows and fireballs. The black liquid was blasted into countless fragments, which landed on the ground and corroded into craters emitting bluish smoke.

The clay doll slowly turned around.

Beneath the red veil, a pair of blood-red eyes stared straight at Li Changsheng.

"You... hid it very well."

It tilted its head, moving like a curious cat.

"I didn't even notice you."

Its voice remained clear and crisp, but with each word, the temperature in the cemetery plummeted. A layer of white frost spread outwards from it, and the runes on the bluestone railing glowed with a chilling light, as if the entire cemetery had come alive.

"But you're too impatient."